


Reason's Prisoner #5: Cry Havoc

by cretkid



Category: West Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 09:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cretkid/pseuds/cretkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, / With Ate by his side, come hot from hell, / Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice / Cry Havoc, and let slip the dogs of war" Julius Caeser:III:1</p>
<p>Post Season 2</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reason's Prisoner #5: Cry Havoc

**Author's Note:**

> While this series of stories is new to AO3, they were originally written in 2000 (I think...) I made up my own timeline for when the episodes happened.
> 
> The Stackhouse Filibuster - March 30  
> 17 People - April 6  
> Bad Moon Rising - April 9  
> The Fall Is Going to Kill You - April 17  
> 18th and Potomac - Starts on April 22 with Joey Lucas, after the opening credits, it's somewhere around May 14, leaving 3 weeks for strategy in between.

Cry Havoc  
========

Carol busied herself with the stack of meeting memos and faxes that had multiplied like rabbits in her in-box between the time they had left for the ACLU address and when they had returned. The speech had gone rather well, in her opinion. She had been watching from the sidelines, babysitting the press pool that had accompanied the President. There had been no left-field questions from either the audience or the reporters, and it seemed the Senior Staff present had let out a collective breath when the President finally left the podium.

Sam and Leo had stayed behind to catch the political analyses from the major news networks. Sam had presented four tapes, labeled CNN, MSNBC, FOX NEWS, and C-SPAN to her as they passed through the West Wing entrance, saying that Bonnie had to leave to take care of something at home. Carol missed some of his running dialogue, since he was giving her the play-by-play commentary while CJ was doling out instructions as they walked to the Press office. For a brief moment she wondered if Sam was using the assistants as intermediaries between himself and the rest of the senior staff. Then, he flashed a tired but bright smile and she banished the thought from her mind.

Carol took the silence coming from the inner office to mean that the reactions from the likes of Bernard Shaw, Tim Russert and even Brit Hume were not enough to send anyone into a tirade just yet. As she looked through the glass window separating her area from CJ's office, she noticed that the address was being re-aired on C-SPAN 2. Carol moved to the doorway and watched for a few minutes. The stage looked much brighter on television. The camera angles were such that the teleprompters were hidden from view.

The President rested both hands on the edges of the podium. His glasses were held in one hand. Every once in a while he would punctuate a statement by waving his glasses at the audience. Carol had heard the address live, but seeing him speak the words was a different experience.

__

_"I'm not here to talk to you about the criminal justice system, the death penalty, the rights of the disabled, gays and lesbians, women and minorities. I'm not here to discuss racial equality, our prison systems, our country's drug policy or police procedures. I'm not here to argue about religious rights, student rights, voting rights or workplace rights. Everyone has their favorite cause, and if I had the time to address each and every one of them, I would. I hope that someday I can, and God willing, there will come the day when no one will have to address any of these issues because they will no longer be the issues at hand._

_"I come here today, not to talk about the rights we, as citizens, should enjoy in a free and democratic society, but the right to enjoy them in the first place. Is it wrong to want to think for ourselves, act on our own behalf, to draw conclusions and make decisions based on what we feel is right and true? Should we enjoy the right to privacy, so long as it does not harm those around us? If, by our actions, we do not present a clear and present danger to society, should we let others trample on our rights to be heard and seen, to be listened to and talked to in a fashion that does not befit a free and democratic society?"_

__

CJ's office was dark, save for the flickering of the television sets. Deftly avoiding the low table and the guest chair in the low light conditions, Carol dropped the memos that would need immediate attention on CJ's desk. "Didn't your mother tell you watching television in the dark would ruin your eyesight?"

Carol turned to look at her boss.

CJ was sitting sideways in the middle of the couch. Her left leg was bent with her ankle tucked under her other knee. Her left arm was braced between the frame and the back cushion and held her head up, the heel of her hand displacing her glasses and covering her eye. She held a television remote against her right knee, index finger inevitably over the channel advance.

In the low light it was hard to tell but Carol was pretty sure that CJ's eyes were closed.

Carol hated to wake her up but there was no way she was going to let CJ sleep in the office. She stepped over to the couch and grabbed the remote, knowing the slight action would cause a stir.

"Go home."

CJ's head slipped from her hand. Jolting awake, she turned on the couch and rolled her head slowly. Her glasses remained askew on her face and yet she didn't seem to notice. "Hmm?"

Carol turned on a lamp, flooding the room with light. "Go home."

"In a few minutes." CJ searched the couch for a remote with one hand as she shielded her eyes with the other, righting her glasses in the process.

Snagging all of the remotes before CJ could find them, Carol stepped over to the bookshelf and turned off the television sets. "No, now."

"I have work to do."

"Do it tomorrow. Better yet, don't do it tomorrow. Simon or Henry can deal with the post-address nonsense."

"That's your job you're referring to as nonsense, Carol."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

"Leo told you to go home."

Sam looked up from the search of his desk to find Toby leaning against the doorjamb. Rolling his shoulder, Sam's suit jacket felt funny and he had a feeling that part of his coat was trapped under his collar. "And I will, as soon as I find my keys." He continued to pat every pile he could find.

Toby stepped into the office, snatching the wayward keys from their spot on the floor in front of Sam's desk. He held on to them rather than handing them over to their rightful owner. "You've had less than 4 hours sleep in 4 days. You're not driving yourself home."

"Then, how am I supposed to get there?"

Taking no offense at the caustic tone, Toby tossed the keys onto the desktop. They had all been on edge lately, from Mrs. Landingham's funeral to the President's announcement concerning reelection. No one had caught up on the sleep that had been lost prior to the declaration. "Call the pool."

"No. Absolutely not. I am not calling the car pool. I'll take the Metro."

Toby walked around the desk and collared Sam, fixing his jacket before he could duck out of the way. "Over my dead body. You'll fall asleep on the train and then I will have to explain to Leo why you are in Baltimore."

"The Metro doesn't go to Baltimore." Sam walked around the other side of the desk.

"That won't matter, because that's where they will find you tomorrow morning. You're going home. Grab what you want. I'm driving."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

CJ took her glasses off and massaged the bridge of her nose. "If I promise to sit here and not do work, will you leave me alone?"

"Not on your life." Carol busied herself organizing the files, folders, piles and puddles of things in, on and around CJ's desk. She grabbed the memos she had just deposited there and shoved them in the pocket of her linen jacket.

"You're worse than my mother."

"Go home."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Jed Bartlet dropped heavily on a couch in his office. His arms spread wide across the back of the cushions and his neck draped over the top. His glasses were clutched in one hand, tapping an incoherent dance on the cushion. The television in the outer office was tuned to one of the news channels. It droned on in the background, providing the much-needed white noise that swamped the sound of his pulse in his ears. He didn't bother to look up when the connecting door between his office and that of the Chief of Staff opened.

"Do you want the latest polling numbers?" Leo asked, sitting on the opposite couch. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Are they any better than the last time?"

"They're no worse."

"Then my answer would be 'no'."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"It's almost 11 PM," Carol said, drawing her arms into a light rain jacket to ward off the late May sprinkles that plagued most nights. "I'm going to call the parking garage attendant when I get home. If you're not in your car by the time I call, I will contact your father and he can tell you to go home."

"That's dirty pool, Carol."

"I'll give you until midnight. If you're not on your way home by then, I e-mail Daddy."

"I should have never taught him how to use his computer. That's where I went wrong."

Carol grabbed her purse and turned out the light in her office. "Don't begrudge the man his hobbies."

"Fishing is a hobby. Knitting is a hobby. E-mail is his obsession. My mother got him his own phone line as a birthday present."

"Go home."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Sam stood in a corner of his office, staring at the keys sitting on his desk. He hadn't moved in what seemed like ages.

"Sam, let's go. I'm taking you home." He held his arm out, pointed at the door to the office, as he walked back around the desk.

"You don't have to, Toby."

"I'm taking you home."

Sam looked up; a sudden renewed vigor in his eyes. "Where's Josh?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Toby shoved his hands in his pockets, resigned to the fact that they weren't going anywhere any time soon. "Do I look like Josh's keeper?"

"You're certainly behaving like mine." Sam seemed a bit startled by his own answer and blinked several times. He didn't apologize.

"I don't know where Josh is. He said something about meeting with the pollsters."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Leo adopted a not dissimilar posture as he waited for his old friend to speak his mind. He caught sound bites from the television, things he had already heard countless times before.

__

_"Despite growing apprehension within his own party..."_

_"Is this is a last ditch effort to win the respect of the Democrats in Congress before a grand jury is summoned and subpoenas issued..."_

_"The Bartlet Administration has decided to light a fire under the issues that got them into the White House in the first place. One has to wonder where they have been..."_

__

He knew the President could hear them as well. The man was known for selective hearing, not deafness.

"I made the right decision," Bartlet said aloud. No question in his voice, no apprehension in his conviction.

Leo nodded. "Yes, you did."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Toby knew he would be in for a fight when Sam shrugged out of his suit jacket and practically pounced on the phone.

"We haven't been asking the right questions," Sam said, dialing Josh's cell number. At the automated recording, he slammed the receiver back in its cradle. "Dammit, out of service. Doesn't he ever remember to charge the damn phone?"

"How else should we ask the questions, Sam?" Toby asked quietly. "Joey Lucas pored over these questions with us. The language is right, the questions are right, the interpretation is up in the air."

"Numbers lie." Sam said it with such conviction that Toby was almost ready to believe him.

"Sometimes they do."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Bartlet leaned forward, mimicking his COS. "We did good tonight."

"Yes, we did," Leo agreed, leaning closer to hear the President's softened tone.

"Reminded me of the old days."

"We'll have those old days back."

"I was walking the rope line and this young woman was standing there amidst the signs and the derogatory comments. She shook my hand and she told me, 'Thank you'. Thank you."

"The correspondence office tells me there are bags full of letters from people thanking you for having the courage to come forward."

"How many bags are there of letters telling me to get the hell out of Dodge?"

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Carol was rounding the same corner as Danny Concannon. In the near collision, Carol fumbled her purse, spilling its contents. Danny knelt down to lend a hand, leaning his laptop case against the wall.

"Long time, no see," Carol commented, grabbing a wayward tube of Chapstick.

Danny shrugged his shoulders, the gathering raindrops starting to form a miniscule pool at their feet. "It happens. She in?" he asked, nodding towards the Press Secretary's domain.

"Yeah. When did you get back?"

"Here, about three hours ago. I left to go home, then realized I left something behind. But I've been in town since Wednesday. Spent yesterday at the Post in the Morgue. I guess I missed a lot, huh?"

Carol stood, offered him a hand to help him off the floor. He grabbed his briefcase and slung the strap over his shoulder. There was a sadness in her eyes that Danny hated to see. A lot of people he had caught up with in the White House had the same look.

"Yeah," she answered with a sigh. "You coming back to the gaggle?"

"Monday. I have a few more feature articles to finish. But I'll be back at my desk bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. No one's cleaned out my stuff, have they? I'd like everything to go back to normal."

The sad smile that crept on Carol's face told him all he needed to know.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  

"Numbers lie, Toby." Sam paced behind his desk. "Our polling after the State of the Union told us that gun control legislation wouldn't pass muster in some districts, yet Joey Lucas said to do it anyway. The numbers lie sometimes."

"I'm not disagreeing with you, Sam."

"We spent three weeks strategizing."

Toby leaned against the desk, facing the door. "I was there."

"Coming up with ways to get our party behind us after we disclosed the President's illness."

"They will get behind us, with the right incentive."

"How the hell can you be so optimistic? Have you been present at any of the meetings we've had for the past two weeks? The Leadership wants him to resign! They want Hoynes in office now, so that the incumbent has the upper hand in the next presidential election."

"The incumbent will have the upper hand, and the incumbent will be Bartlet."

"As much as I want to believe that..."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

When Danny arrived at CJ's office door, he found her sitting on her couch; head tilted back and eyes staring listlessly at the ceiling. He leaned against the doorjamb, letting his laptop case rest on the inside of her door.

"That can't be good for your neck."

CJ turned her head in his direction, eyebrows furrowed. She blew air through her lips and returned to staring at the ceiling. "The prodigal son returns."

"Well, you know, places to go, people to see, features to write, books to research. I go away for two months and this place goes to hell in a handcart."

"All aboard. Track 9. Servicing Hell, Hades, Purgatory and the Underworld." She waved her hand in a circular pattern once, twice, then let her hand fall to her side. "Enjoy our special two for one rate."

"Nice attitude."

"What do you want?"

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"Remember that time in Oregon?" Bartlet poured himself a drink from the small bar in the corner. He pulled a can of Ginger Ale from the small fridge and tossed it to Leo across the room. Then he carried a glass with ice over to Leo, placing it on the coffee table between the couches. "I thought Toby was going to pop a blood vessel right there and then."

"You said you were happy to be in Salem, Massachusetts."

"It was an honest mistake."

"And now we know where Sam gets it."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Danny tread carefully into the office. The televisions were off, which he found unusual. Only the floor lamp in the corner was lit. He didn't like standing over her, but the guest chair was occupied with boxes and files, and he wasn't sure if he still had tacit permission to sit next to her. He sat on the arm of the couch instead, folding his hands in his lap.

"I was sorry to hear about Mrs. Landingham. She was always very kind to me."

CJ didn't move, didn't flinch. "That she was."

"The last time I saw her, she gave me cookies for my trip to Canada."

"You went to Canada?"

"For vacation. Two weeks, fishing trip in Alberta with my father and his brothers. I hear you kept the Press Corp prisoner for Stackhouse's little show the day I left."

CJ smiled. "That's right, you missed that. I really must be cursed."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"This campaign is going to be hard. Harder than the first." Toying with his drink, Bartlet listened to the slight chink of ice on glass. He sat in the middle of the couch; head bent low, elbows on knees and the drink in his hands his sole focal point.

"You weren't ready for the last campaign," Leo said. His soda sat unopened in his hand, the ice-filled glass leaving a ring of condensation on the coaster he had the sense to use.

"What makes you think I'm ready for this one?"

"Because I saw your face at that press conference. You're ready."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"Do you want to know the first thing that ran through my head when we were told Mrs. Landingham had died?" Sam asked, his voice rising half an octave. "That we weren't going to get an answer on re-election. Is that callous of me? This wonderful woman, who buys her first car and dies in a horrible car accident not an hour after signing the papers, was not first and foremost on my mind."

Toby looked over his shoulder. "It's all right, Sam."

"No, it's not! It really isn't."

"We all had a lot on our minds at that time."

"That's not an excuse!"

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"You couldn't have given me a 'heads up' or anything?" Danny asked, trying to keep his tone light. He leaned back and rested his head against the wall. "I could have postponed the research trip."

"No."

"Is that a 'No, I couldn't give you a clue' or a 'No, you shouldn't have postponed your research trip'?"

"Yes."

"Monosyllabic answers. Interesting. No witty repartee? No wisecracks?"

"I'm practicing."

"For?"

"Grand jury summons."

"Ah. You think you'll be subpoenaed?"

"Yes."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"We should have asked him the question earlier. We should have asked him at the State of the Union to make sure he wanted to run again." Sam sat down in his chair and propped a foot on the corner of the desk.

"Sam--"

"Three weeks, Toby! For three weeks I said we needed to know where he stood on re-election so we could come up with a credible defense when the shit hits the fan. And I was shot down, every single time!" He jabbed a finger on the desk to punctuate his remarks. "Instead of wasting time coming up with two different strategies, we could have come up with better answers for Plan A!"

"We should have known about the President's condition in the first place," Toby said softly. "There's no use in crying over spilled milk."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"This administration is too good to be taken down by the right to one's privacy."

Danny nodded in agreement, but didn't verbally comment. It wasn't as if Bartlet had been accused of some money or sex scandal, buying his way into the White House by hook or by crook. Plenty of Presidents had been ill while serving their country.

Danny thought he knew the Senior Staff fairly well, as well as anyone outside the upper echelon could. He could tell, simply by their actions and reactions, from the few times he was able to catch a glimpse of their expressions on the television from news broadcasts since the disclosure, that the Senior Staff had only just found out about the MS. He didn't know the timeline, though he could hazard a pretty good guess.

And he had to wonder what spurned the President to tell the Staff in the first place. What spurned his decision to tell the rest of the nation that he had this disease that could slowly eat away at his brain?

"It simply isn't fair," CJ said, defeated.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The President drained the rest of the tumbler, resting it on his knee. The ice had yet to melt.

"You know, I really shouldn't be drinking this stuff. Abbey would have my ass if she knew."

"We're allowed our vices so long as they don't endanger the public health," Leo replied, an excuse he had used long and hard for years.

"What Abbey doesn't know won't hurt her, right?" He tabled the tumbler and leaned back on the couch. Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands, he mumbled, "That's where I went wrong, isn't it?"

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"We worked under the assumption that he would run again." Toby crossed his arms over his chest and spoke to the floor. "Leo knew what we were doing. Leo knew we were between a rock and a hard place."

"The President changed his mind at the last minute!"

"Yes, he did."

"If you were so confident that he was going to run again, how come you had me draft a resignation address?"

"Because he was working under the assumption that he wasn't going to run again."

Sweeping his foot off the desk, Sam knocked over the cup of pencils sitting on the corner.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

CJ closed her eyes when she felt the weight shift on the couch. She was spending much too much time with her head draped over the back of a chair, couch or bench trying to think about nothing at all.

Something dropped into her lap and she felt the couch sink again, this time next to her. She opened her eyes long enough to pick up the 10 by 12 inch envelope and hold it above her eyes. It was thick and bulky and unlabeled. "What's this?"

Danny had followed her example and dropped his head on the back of the couch. "I want you to read it."

"What is it?"

"Draft copy of my feature article. Several articles, actually. It's a multi-part piece."

"Why would I want to read about former First Ladies? That was why you were gone, isn't it?"

Danny tapped the envelope she still held over her head. "That's not about First Ladies. First part runs this Sunday. The last part will run Father's Day."

CJ dropped her arm and let the package fall in her lap again. She closed her eyes again. "I don't have time--"

Danny turned his head to look at her. "Not now. When you have the time."

"Why? Why me?"

"Because a good administration doesn't deserve to be taken down by the right to one's privacy."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"I still maintain that it was my right to privacy."

"And that's the defense we are going to build on," Leo said quietly, reassuringly. "At least for right now."

"Oliver wants Abbey to get her own lawyer."

"That's probably a good idea."

"I'm not going to distance myself from my wife, Leo."

"No one's implying that you should."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Sam stopped pacing and took several cleansing breaths. He picked up his discarded jacket and slowly pushed his arms through the sleeves. Staring out into the Bullpen and the sea of abandoned desks, he made his way to the door of his office.

"The other day, prepping the President for tonight's speech, it almost felt like old times. Arguing whether or not he should take his coat off, where the pitcher of water would be. I'd almost forgotten what's happened the last 5 weeks."

"Maybe that's what we need," Toby said, leaving his perch on the desk and grabbing Sam's keys. "A sense of normalcy."

"Donna's plotting against Josh for the Chicken Little stuff."

"Like I said, a sense of normalcy."

Sam stepped out into the Bullpen. "We're going to stick it to big Tobacco."

"That's the plan." Toby closed the office door, taking a brief moment to make sure his own door was closed.

"Social security. Family health. Children in poverty."

"All that and more."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The phone was ringing, CJ was laughing and Danny didn't know what to make of it. "What's so funny?"

"She did it. I can't believe she followed through," CJ replied, checking her watch. "What time is it?"

"About a quarter past midnight."

Lunging across the end of the couch, she tried to reach the phone. "It's too far away," she whined while laughing.

Danny stood up and grabbed the phone. Catching the cord so that it would not get caught on the desk, he handed the receiver to her.

CJ took a deep breath and said without preamble, "Hi, Dad."

Danny placed the cradle near the edge of the desk so she could replace the receiver without moving from her seat. He sat back down next to her.

"I know, Carol threatened me before she left... No, I'm not working... No, I'm not watching television either... I'm sitting on the couch in my office... Sitting and thinking... No, I'm not using my computer, either... I'm not lying, Dad..."

Danny was amused by what he could hear on his end of the conversation. CJ put her hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, "I'm going to fire Carol."

"I'm about to leave right now... Seriously... Yes, I will call Carol... I can't promise I won't yell at her... Okay, I do promise, back off... Get off the Internet and talk to your wife... I know she's my mother too, but not when it comes to you and your computer. She threatened to disown me and your sons for starting this obsession... It is too an obsession. Go talk to your wife..."

Danny started to stand, but CJ grabbed his hand and forced him to stay where he was. She didn't let go.

"I'm not doing anything... I'm just sitting here, talking with a friend... No, you don't know him... Dad, Carol is going to sic the attack dogs on me if I don't call her."

Danny pulled his cell phone from his pocket and quickly dialed Carol's home number. When she picked up, he said, "She's getting the third degree from her father. I'll make sure she heads home as soon as she's off the phone... See you Monday."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"We were doing so well a year ago, Leo. Rosslyn aside, we were doing well. Let Bartlet be Bartlet. Where did that go?"

"It just took a little vacation." Leo pointed towards the door. "Josh is hot on the heels of the Appropriations committee to get more money for Tobacco legislation. Toby has all but convinced Seth Gillette to get his thumb out of his ass and work with us on Social Security. Sam has camped in front of the offices of every Democrat on the Hill. We've got a small cadre in the Leadership that will back your re-election run, and that number will grow. CJ's keeping the focus on the issues and not your medical history. The polls will bounce back."

Bartlet searched the cushions for his misplaced glasses. When he couldn't find them, he stood up and paced in front of the couches from the mantle to the desk, rolling his sleeves in the process. "It's not about the polls, Leo."

Watching the President walk like he was watching a tennis match, Leo leaned forward and planted his elbows on his knees again. "I once told you that I would raise an army against you. I've got the beginnings of one here that will fight for you. With generals like Toby, Sam, Josh and CJ leading the charge. But you can't sit on the fence and play the passive observer anymore. This can't be like the first campaign. It's a whole different battlefield this time around."

"Tonight was a start." The President leaned against his desk, arms braced.

"Yes, it was. A small step. We just need to climb a few more flights of stairs. We're going to take a few hits, fall off a few ledges. The rest of them, they're waiting for the word. You tell them to go and they will walk through fire for you."

"Are we sure about that?"

"They're still here, aren't they?"

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

CJ fingered the package again, having pulled it into her lap again after getting off the phone with her father. She leaned back against the couch, finding her head in its familiar position of late with her arms slack at her side. Danny fell into step beside her, staring at the ceiling.

His back of his left hand brushed the back of her right. Knuckles locking for the briefest moment, he felt a reassuring pressure there.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Toby unlocked the passenger door and pulled the door open for Sam. "Let me ask you this, Sam. Do you think that President Bartlet is capable of leading this nation, despite the fact that he's been diagnosed with MS?"

Without thinking twice about his answer, Sam replied, "Absolutely. Without a doubt."

"Good answer."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Bartlet walked Leo back to his office through their common door. "We're going to need a platform," he said, leaning against the doorjamb.

"We have plenty of platforms," Leo replied over his shoulder. "We need to narrow our focus. We can start that Monday."

"Memorial Day."

"Can you think of a better time?" Leo checked for any additional memos on his desk left by Margaret.

"No."

Leo stepped through the door to Margaret's office to make sure she had gone home for the night like he had told her to over an hour ago. "Go find Abbey. I assume you two have a lot to talk about."

"Leo?"

The Chief of Staff turned around and looked at his old friend. "Yeah?"

"What's next?"

 

End


End file.
